


every melody is timeless

by parkadescandal



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Almost Kiss, Canon Compliant, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Slow Romance, The Apology Tour, Tropes abound, a large cadre of Disney supporting characters, soriku endgame...eventually, whom i will not tag individually, wip not dead just napping i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-09-30 11:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20446505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkadescandal/pseuds/parkadescandal
Summary: Riku's trying to get something off his chest, but while everyone he's made a pit stop for on his journey to clear his conscience seems to be in his corner, some outside force keeps stealing great moments right out from under him, just in the nick of time.ORFive attempted deeply romantic confessions entirely botched and the one that doesn’t get away.ORThe great apology worlds tour.





	1. too many things, lately

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pineovercoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineovercoat/gifts).

> This draft document was created almost exactly a year ago. I’ve been toying around with this for ages, and much of it is inherently the same other than the parts that were bolstered by new canon--a labor of length and love. I'm just a really slow bake oven, is all. Dubiously post-canon setting and deliriously tropey execution. No betas we die like..... okay but you get the picture.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prelude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a deep dive into fic writer's indulgence. feast upon pining riku.

Riku looks solemnly at the ground. 

“Talk about what?” Sora prods gently. 

“I’ve made a decision,” he says, looking up, now more determined than anything. “I could use a hand.”

Sora is ecstatic; his grin could cause light pollution singlehandedly. 

“Of course!” 

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” Riku says half-heartedly, commenting on the inevitability of it more than anything. 

“You never ask me for help. I think I’m up to the challenge. But if it’s so important to you that I actually know what’s going on, then what is it?” 

Riku shakes his head, letting the smallest smile tug at his face. 

“I wanna apologize,” he says. “It’s never sat right with me that I never went to address how my decisions affected other people.” He pauses for a moment, gaze drifting to his shoes again, elbows to his knees. “There’s a lot on my mind.’ 

He glances up once more, watching him use every fiber of his self-control not to correct him as he remains bright eyed with excitement and tensed like coil ready to spring into action. Written in his frame is the shadow of so many arguments now rote to Riku: _We’ve been over this_, starts an old favorite of Sora’s_. You’ve already done so much. _

Riku feels that same vertigo, that near flush, that sinking feeling. Blanketed by his own folly, this particular weakness upon he’s not willing to improve: this all-consuming affection. It’s hopeless, he’s hopeless, he can’t manage to hope any less--it’s just that with every set of kind words and every smile he’s impossibly deeper, he’s hair’s breadth from leaping. Either down to the farthest reaches of the earth, to disappear, never to be seen again, freeing himself from the pressure of it all, or straight to his arms, to sigh, to pledge fealty and commit to undying servitude, clutching tight and never letting go. The irrationality of it all. The serene logic. The divine agony of it all, this curse and blessing of being in love. Because he’s horrified to realize that with every reassurance he’s even starting to believe in _himself_, and thus finds his wandering thoughts rewriting the terms of the quiet contract he made, the one that deemed him unworthy of being the one to reach out and take his hand and leave it there for the rest of eternity, give or take. 

“Last time, I promise,” he says to quell the incoming deluge, standing tall now as if it could serve as a blockade. “This is something I need to do. Would you humor me?” 

“Of course,” he says, fight pulled out of him. He smiles in an almost resigned way, happy to concede. “Whatever you need.” 

And here he doesn’t leap, but does cautiously step down, bolstered by that same heady affection--he really does have a lot on his mind, and perhaps, real soon, he can tell him the rest. 

He reaches out a hand. 

“Come with me?” he says. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Asia.


	2. tune as old as song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'O no! it is an ever-fixed mark_   
_That looks on tempests and is never shaken;_   
_It is the star to every wand'ring bark,_   
_Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.'_

The castle bridge is just as imposing, but—

“Something’s different,” Riku says. Paying him no mind, Sora grabs his wrist and tears off full speed ahead, injected with new energy at the prospect of seeing his friends. They make it to the courtyard before he skids to a stop and whirls around. 

“Wait. You’ve been here? Then what--” 

“It was a little awkward. Don’t worry about it.” 

Sora gives him a squint of concern but soldiers on, running up the steps and lifting the gigantic knockers of the door with both arms:_ slam, slam, slam!_

He’s bouncing from foot to foot, practically tap dancing in anticipation before the door finally opens. For some reason, he’s looking down at the floor, and not at the rather rotund gentleman who answers it. Sora’s eyes dart around in confusion for a moment before he finally spies Belle, on the arm of a regal looking man with a wry grin. Sora shoves his way past the doorman to fling himself at Belle, who responds with delighted laughter. He takes her by the shoulders. 

“What’s going on? Where’s the Beast? And Lumière, and Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts! Who is this?” he shouts, gesturing at the man he’d practically knocked down a moment earlier. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Belle says with a genuine smile as she takes in her other guest. 

“What’s happened? Is he okay? Oh no,” he says with horror setting in. “The curse, did it--” 

And finally Sora takes a moment to look around, taking in the tall, thin man beside them and the portly old lady with a little boy by her side, then once again the man at the door, and the dog running at their feet, and the air of familiarity about all of them. Once more he looks at the man who has put his sturdy arm around Belle. Sora squints, taken aback, and strides over to peer into his eyes. 

“Oh,” he says, finally, hackles lowered in palpable relief. “Oh! It’s you! You did it!” 

And here he flings himself once again at his old friend, who laughs joyously as he pulls him into an embrace. 

“I knew you’d break the curse! Way to go!” Sora says, pulling Belle in as well. “I’m so happy for you!” 

He’s interrupted by the exaggerated sound of someone’s throat being cleared. 

“Cogsworth!” Sora shouts, catching himself before he propels himself forward again upon seeing the nervous energy about him. Cogsworth makes a show of delicately dusting himself off and takes a proper stance. 

“Your royal highnesses Prince Adam and Princess Belle. Shall we arrange for our guests to be seated as well?” 

“Of course,” Belle says warmly. “You’re just in time for the banquet.” 

She extends a hand and leads him along, him still gesturing animatedly. Many of the castle’s servants follow, leaving Riku standing in the foyer with little company but Prince Adam himself. 

“I know you,” he says matter-of-factly, hands placed behind his back. 

“Yeah,” says Riku, looking down shamefully. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

“To finish the job?” he says sardonically. “You wouldn’t be the first to try.” 

“I’m sorry,” Riku says. “I know that changes nothing.” 

“‘_Despisèd substance of divinest show, just opposite to what thou justly seem’st_,’” he says by way of reply. Riku raises an eyebrow, but he continues. “Appearances deceive. No. It doesn’t change anything. But it was good of you to say it. After all, it wouldn’t be fair of me to say that someone couldn’t change.” 

“I guess not.” Riku looks up to find the slightest smile on his face. 

“I’ll forgive. Clearly Sora trusts you, and I owe him a great debt. He cared for me when I was at my weakest even when he had no one else by his side. He helped me come to my senses when I was being manipulated, and most importantly, he’s helped me to protect my beloved Belle. So I can’t imagine he’d reward continued treachery.” 

“You never know, with him,” Riku says in a half-hearted jibe. “But you’re right. There was a part of me that knew I was wrong. And I needed to change.” 

“What it took for me was finding someone to who would make me _want_ to,” Adam says. “For a long time, I didn’t believe that I could. That all I would ever be was what I felt inside, and I made no effort to change that. Belle helped me to understand that believing myself that I could be better was the only way to get someone to recognize that in me. Feeling defeated and unloved for who I was captured me, but she saw through it. I owe her so much more than my love for it. I want to show her how much I care about her, and so I am better every day.” 

Prince Adam measures Riku with another look, and turns on his heel to follow the crowd down to the banquet hall. Riku strides over to walk in step. 

“...How did you show her?” he asks. 

“I gave her a library, to start. But further than that, untethered her bonds from this castle. She came back.” 

“Did she know then?” 

“Yes. Right on time, too. Her love broke the curse, and saved me from the brink of death.”

Riku blinks. 

“Ah,” he says simply. 

Adam pushes his way into the banquet hall. It is elaborately decorated, bustling with servants putting everything in its place. 

“And tomorrow,” he says, “we are to be married.” 

Riku freezes. Of course he’d managed to pick this exact day. 

“So, uh. Why didn’t you lead with that?” he says, locking eyes with Sora, who is clearly experiencing paroxysms of joy. He drops Belle’s hands from his as he ends whatever excited little half-jig he’d led them in and strides over with purpose. 

“We have to stay now,” he hisses in a whisper powerful enough that it could have woken even Ventus in the Chamber of Waking. 

“_No_,” Riku says with panicked impulse. How could they impose, he wants to say, he came here for apologies, not ceremonies, how could they possibly…?

But it’s futile. All the same they end up shuffled back and forth between the castle’s tailors for something more befitting of ceremony--_”An enchanted castle will always have a few tricks up its sleeve,” _said the musical voice ensconced from deep within a wardrobe when they looked on agog when asked to return within the hour for a fitting--and after the grand tour they’re shown to one of the castle’s few remaining accommodations before reconvening in the ballroom just as the celebrations begin. 

“So at some point tonight,” Riku says in a hush, “we can slip out. They’ll never miss us.”

“I already told you no. Don’t be stupid,” Sora pouts, fists to his hips, when Belle comes up behind them. 

“Is everything alright?” she asks, receiving a polite nod from Riku and a beatific grin from Sora. She laughs, and extends a hand to Sora to pull him to the floor. He throws back another grin while Riku shakes his head fondly. He watches them for a moment, Sora starting off gracelessly but Belle patiently teaching him the rhythm--he’s a quick learner when he wants to be. 

He watches on the outskirts of the dancefloor for a moment before he’s joined by another presence. 

“Not a dancer?” Prince Adam asks, hands behind his back.

“Never really a priority.” 

“It is a valuable skill,” he says, looking over him to measure his height. “Here.” 

He demonstrates a stance, arms raised, feet apart, and waits expectantly for Riku to do the same. He falters for a moment, torn, but this is a prince, with whom he’s already trying to make amends, and so with a nervous shuffle he mirrors the gesture. He looks out with concentration at the floor again--it is littered with nobility carrying out a waltz, but it only takes an instant to find what he’s looking for. Off toward a corner he sees Belle lead Sora in a little twirl. He spins, and upon meeting her again throws back his head and laughs as they fall into step again. 

“Not too unlike fencing,” Adam says, and Riku is startled back into reality. 

“That I can do,” he mumbles, darting his eyes back over to Adam to check his position. 

“The only major difference,” Adam says, reaching out to adjust the position of Riku’s arm so that it no longer covers his chest but instead extends out. “...is that you must let down your defenses.” 

Here he slides back into his own position to the rhythm of the orchestra’s song, showing a simple step, and waits patiently for him to make the corresponding move, and when he searches for the holdup it’s to find Riku stricken to the spot, looking at him with disbelief, arms still in the air. 

“It’s not hard, once you know how,” Adam says with an encouraging nod. “You’ll get better every day, too.” 

“Yeah,” Riku says, moving into position with new determination. “Maybe you’re right.” 

For the rest of the waltz, he copies each move with increasing confidence. Towards the end of the song, Adam puts down his arms and reaches over to give him a gentle push on the shoulder. 

“Forgive me,” he says, gesturing out into the crowd. “I must go cut in. And you should practice.” 

“Wh--” he starts, but finds himself being led to the floor by one arm. 

“Excuse me,” Adam says, extending a hand as Belle swings back into view. Sora gives an exaggerated little bow as he turns Belle over to him, and she smiles as she steps in time with Adam at the beginning of the next song. 

“So what did you learn?” Sora asks, taking his hand and falling into place to be lead in the next dance. “Are you as good a dancer as me now?” 

“If you saw, you’d know I’m already better.”

“Good. Now you can prove it, because I’m not done dancing yet.” 

With that, he takes a step, and they fall into a clumsy waltz. 

“You know,” Sora says after a moment with a little laugh. “It’s almost just like…”

“Like fighting.” 

“Yeah!” 

“Then I guess I could get used to it,” he smiles. Sora smiles back. 

A stretch of time of near misses of toe stepping and increasingly fewer stumbles later, Prince Adam calls the music to a halt to announce the plan for the next evening. With no music, they separate with a few awkward laughs while the rest of the crowd mills around noisily as Adam and Belle give their individual formalities, eventually stopping at them. 

“Thank you so much for staying,” Belle says. “We’ll be quite occupied tomorrow, but please make yourselves at home. The castle is yours to explore.” 

“There is always something new in Belle’s library should all else fail,” Adam says fondly. 

Belle’s face lights up. 

“Oh, you really must see it--although I do have to go back in and organize. I had left out some collections I wanted us to choose something from for our vows and I’m afraid with everything else I haven’t had a chance to go back,” she says, squinting distractedly and looking elsewhere. Adam gently places a hand on her elbow to ground her back in the present. 

“Darling,” he says with playful warning. 

“Of course. Please have Cogsworth come find us if you need anything at all,” she says, redirecting her attention to them once again. “Lumière will show you to your room. I’m happy we had space left to accommodate you. It seems that it’s… really quite the event,” she says around an embarrassed smile. 

Lumière’s amiable babbling still in their ears, they retire for the night in an ornately decorated room anchored by a massive four-poster bed. As they turn down for the night Sora propels himself with force onto the duvet and stretches out with a massive yawn, curling in on himself in just like the little cat they’d seen lovingly redirected from Belle and Adam’s legs with high frequency that evening. 

“They seem so happy,” Sora observes with a smile. “I’m glad you got to meet them like this.” 

“This is probably… ideal, in comparison,” Riku says as he delicately situates himself on his own side. “Worked out pretty well considering you apparently lost the save the date invitation.” 

Sora gives a little hum. His breath is already slowing with sleep. 

“Hey, Sora.” Riku looks over to find his cheek already plastered to a pillow and his eyelids drooping. “You’re the better dancer.” 

“Of course I am,” he mumbles. “But you’re not so bad yourself.” 

“You’re just saying that,” Riku says with a smile, but he’d never find out if that was the truth; all he gets in return is a stifled little snort. 

The morning finds them poking around every crevasse the castle and its grounds have to offer while waiting for the evening’s celebrations. They’re shooed out of the kitchen by Mrs. Potts and they’re shooed out of the garden by the groundskeeper and they’re shooed out of the stables by the smell. The only place they can’t be shoed is at the cobbler’s. 

“I don’t want to get in the way,” Sora says, but catching Riku about to suggest for the 12th time that day that they send their regrets and just pick up and go, the lightbulb visibly flickers over him as he remembers the last card in his back pocket. “Wait. The library!” he shouts, then books his way back into the castle, tugging him along until they burst through the doors and meander inside.

“It is nice, isn’t it,” he says proudly. 

“Lots of light,” Riku mutters absently, looking on as he flits about the room. He finds a large tome laying on a dais towards the center of the room and flips it up for inspection. 

“The Complete Works of William Shakespeare,” he reads. “I haven’t seen anything about this guy in a long time.” When he seems to find the silence suspicious, he looks up to find the war that’s been playing out on Riku’s face about which witty retort he’s going to launch. “Don’t you dare,” Sora warns, and firmly sets the book back down in its place. 

“Who needs literature, anyway? Your life is already a comedy.”

“Who does need it?” he says absently, delicately thumbing through the pages of the folio as if preparing to turn to the next page, then opens to a new page with the easy give of the oft reread. He squints at the text for a moment. “...You know,” he continues, brow furrowed, “the same magic we use to understand everyone usually works on things we read, too, but I think it’s broken.” 

Riku purses his lips, attempting once more to hold in the wave of mirth, then looks to the text, then back to Sora, who finally gives him the shadow of a wry little grin he takes as permission to let out the violent peal of laughter he’d kept at bay. 

“Little dense, yeah,” he agrees with amusement, peering down to look at the book. The title hints at a story surrounding dreams and he represses a sigh--like they hadn’t had enough of those. But it’s not like they had anything better to do in the meantime. He mutters aloud a snatch of dialogue from the tiny print on the first page--sword fights looked promising. 

“‘..._wooed thee with my sword and won thy love doing you injuries, but I will wed you in another key, with pomp, with triumph, and with reveling_…’” 

He finds his face involuntarily scrunched up in something in between concentration and disgust and looks up from the book to find a twin expression on Sora’s, which sets them off on a less than delicate bout of laughter for a moment. 

“Probably wouldn’t choose this as a bedtime story,” he says dryly, and they settle back into an even mood, quiet while pretending to skim along. 

“I’m sorry,” Sora says after a moment. “You did what you came here to do. It’s not about me right now. We can move on if you want to.” The corner of his mouth is turned down with genuine regret, and Riku realizes he’d put a lot on the line never to see it again; the hand at his side itches to fix it, to pull it back into a smile with a light press from his thumb, but he opts for words instead. 

“Nah,” he says. “Turns out I’m just getting started on it. I’m pretty sure I just ended up making another promise to the prince, and I haven’t even started on it yet.” 

“That’s not like you.” 

“No, it isn’t, is it?” he mumbles, distracted, looking to change the subject. He reaches to the book again to catch a couple of pages with his thumb and skips ahead, poring over once more as if in search of answers. Some guidance at least would be nice, he thinks, maybe a hint--the rules for keeping a steady heart and a weighted head in spite of the very tangible outside influence that has tucked itself inside his bubble and tickled his throat with its hair. As if making a point, Sora spreads out yet further into his space, bracketing the podium, and takes in a deep breath to read aloud. 

“‘_Things base and vile, holding no quantity_,’” he enunciates. 

“Should have known you’d be a performer--” 

“‘_Love can transpose to form and dignity_,’” he continues in a fine yodel. “‘_Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind, and therefore is_\--’” 

Riku scoffs with involuntary disdain. 

“What?” Sora grins up at him, and, speechless, Riku steps into a fine backpedal bluster, landing on plausible deniability. 

“It’s just… I don’t know. Sometimes a disguise is just a disguise. Maybe it’s all just part of the trick.” 

“So you don’t think it’s true?” 

Sobered, he looks down again to meet his eye, still amused but earnest. 

“Did I say that?” 

“I think you did.” 

He looks away, hiding a smile, knowing he’s thoroughly ensnared all the same. 

“It’s a little hard to swallow, is all. Feels like going against your instincts. It doesn’t… it doesn’t feel safe.” 

“I think it’s the other way around,” Sora says softly, suddenly serious. He turns to meet his gaze. “I think it’s… your heart. Telling you exactly where it needs to be. Never steers me wrong.” 

“No?” It comes out as more of a whisper than anything. 

“Nah. Your heart always knows. Even if no one else does.” 

_That’s naive, _he wants to say, or _One day that won’t be the case_, or _Well, and look where that got you_, which is here, with him, dragged along once again to put out fires he didn’t set. But all he’s got for it is an awe that renders him immobile, fastened securely to the sticking place where he may just finally be able to screw his courage. 

“Hey,” he says around the choppy current of risk. “You should know--” 

But what else is there? The sudden severity of it all had taken their proximity from a plausible playfulness to something flavored more like some sort of tension, and he’s even more keenly aware of his interpretation of it than before. There’s nothing left to say. Helplessly he tucks his head down and shifts around, feeling him shift in turn, knowing that it’s not because they’re seeing it the same way but deciding to take advantage of it anyway; he reaches over to take his arm away from where he’s gripped on one end of the book and moves to insinuate himself there more securely instead as he patiently watches, leans down and aims for the target, which is somewhere in the general direction of his jaw but his mouth is well within acceptable range, there’s no disguising _this--_

The door bursts open. 

The both of them jump and scramble miles apart; Cogsworth blusters into the room. He pays them no mind. 

“Dear me, what would this castle do without--oh, how serendipitous, you’ve happened upon the First Folio,” he says, plodding over with the usual pomp. “Pardon me,” he says in a little sing song as he takes the book from the dais and pokes his nose inside it. 

“Ah, yes, the merry Midsummer, quite the comedy--it was the first choice of the lord and lady for their ceremony, but they found it… a little on the nose,” he says, tapping his own nose in emphasis. “We’ve the sonnets in hand already, but you know how the master worries… the temperament on him, I do say.” 

He checks for the bookmark and gives an authoritative nod as he finds it in the right place before closing the book into one hand with a snap and making to leave the room, but he stops at the door and turns. 

“Oughtn’t you be preparing for the ceremony?” 

Another spell in this castle broken--they shift from whence frozen, and circle back to the same jovial air as before, though perhaps a bit quieter. 

He finds they’re not so out of place in the ceremony as he might have expected. Not a large cadre, but an odd one, not the least of which the short stout man who stands near the bride and wipes his face with one of the colorful handkerchiefs spilling from his pockets. 

Lumière reads with dramatic flourish from what must be Cogsworth’s aforementioned sonnets, radiating emotion, clearly having have rehearsed for this as if it were the most important thing he’d ever do. 

> _Let me not to the marriage of true minds_  
_Admit impediments. Love is not love_  
_Which alters when it alteration finds,_  
_Or bends with the remover to remove:_  
_O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,_  
_That looks on tempests and is never shaken;_  
_It is the star to every wandering bark,_  
_Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken._  
_Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_  
_Within his bending sickle’s compass come;_  
_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_  
_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._  
_If this be error and upon me proved,_  
_I never writ, nor no man ever loved._

Doing everything in his power not to show that their choice in poetry has sent the entirety of his spirit into a roiling boil, Riku tries not to fidget, hand twitching on his leg for want of a better place to put his energy. _Shakespeare._ Beside him he’s aware of Sora turning to give him a smile, something uncharacteristically unreadable about it. His stomach turns to think that he’d put it there, that it’s his fault for not being able to leave well enough alone. 

Adam and Belle beam down the aisle, and he meets Adam’s eye for just a moment, responding to his firm nod with the purse of his lips and a subtle one of his own. A reminder. After Sora had dragged him in to barge in on Adam for one last embrace before the ceremony began Riku had been left alone with him for one more moment when he tore off to find Belle. 

“I’m really happy for you,” he’d said, taking the chance to express the genuine notion that had sprung to him. “She’s clearly very important to you. I’m sorry I didn’t see that. But it turned out exactly the way it should have. I guess even in spite of me or what I believed. You were the stronger one.” 

“Only for a moment,” Adam had responded. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find you a difficult match. You have my forgiveness, but conditionally: see to it that you prove that. That you prove your care for what’s important to you.” 

_No promises_, he thinks as all rise, ready to be pushed out by the magic of their love and float along like weightless stems unto their next destination, some, perhaps, more lucky than others in their attempts to follow in their footsteps. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying something new and doing installment updates in order to peer pressure myself into meeting a deadline. See y'all in two weeks, providence willing. 😘


	3. the guard dog of all your fever dreams

“So this is the place?” 

Sun has just finished setting on the bustling cityscape spread out before them as they stand at the edge of a tall arched bridge. Riku saw it in pictures, bunches sent to him in a frenzy and each paired with a series of messages that he didn’t get to look at until hours afterward. The first couple were ecstatic in a way the previous world roundups hadn’t been, likely in deference to every conversation they’d had since childhood that posited what a realm outside of sleepy island town life would look like. But then the tone changed. A worry that touched on desperation colored each short burst, and he’d worked through them with his heart in his throat.

_I know that’s not you anymore. You would never hurt anyone like that now. I didn’t believe any of it for a second. I hate that he felt that way, that you felt that way. You know I don’t care about any of that stuff. You’re not alone, I promise. _

Relief breaks over Sora in an instant the next time they connect, blinding, but he’s clearly been rattled due to the… _imposter_, or whoever it was--certainly not the same double Riku sheltered in his heart, but yet another reminder of his little bout of unmanaged darkness spells. Taking a tourniquet to that darkness hadn’t quite eliminated all of the repercussions, and it had rippled out to cause more havoc here in the city long after he’d washed his hands of it. Riku took it on as his latest burden, in spite of how indirect Sora seemed to think his role actually was. 

“I did really want to show you,” Sora says. The city of San Fransokyo remains bright and loud in spite of the hour, and he gestures out at it. “It seemed like your kind of thing. Always something going on here.” 

“Don’t get distracted,” Riku says, plowing forward. “Business first.” Out of the corner of his eye he sees Sora slump dejectedly. 

“But you don’t even have to apologize for this one!” he whines. “It wasn’t even you!” 

Riku looks down at him in hopes he can convey as gently as possible that he’s an idiot. 

“What caused it, then? Because I’m not understanding just who you think it was.” 

“It’s not _your _fault. And you know it--it’s not fair! It wasn’t _my_ you. Not _you _you. It doesn’t count.” 

“You really think that, don’t you,” Riku says, not actually asking. He looks on as he pouts and wonders how he’s still so surprised about his conviction. _**My** you?_ he thinks, reeling. 

“I can tell the difference,” Sora mutters. “Gimme a little credit.” 

“Fine. You win. It obviously wasn’t me because I was otherwise occupied at the time.” 

“That’s what I’m trying to tell yo--”

“But it still never would have happened if it hadn’t been for things I did in the past. So humor me.”

With a sigh, Sora puts his hands on his hips and stomps onward to change direction and subject. 

“I’m _kinda _sure this is the district Hiro’s garage is in,” he says with a hand covering his brow like he’s searching for something. “But it’s kinda tough to remember everything without that visor thi--”

He stops abruptly and yelps; Hiro Hamada has just torn around a corner to book it full speed ahead, and without another word Sora follows suit. 

“Wait,” Riku says, knowing it’s hopeless before it’s left his mouth, and follows. 

Hiro’s colorful cast of friends isn’t far behind. They call out to him, separated by just a few strides.

“Hey, Hiro!” Sora shouts, and he stumbles before skidding to a stop, flailing to keep his balance. 

“Hey!” Hiro calls with delight as he recognizes him. The rest of his crew hit the brakes behind him, not all of them in time--they bump into each other one by one. 

“_Cuidate_, Hiro,” someone chastises. 

“Sorry, Honey Lemon.” 

“Where’s your armor? What’s the emergency?” Sora says, jogging up to close the gap. 

“Oh, no. This isn’t Big Hero 6 business,” one of them says with a touch of ire. “Hiro’s just gotten himself into trouble again.” 

“Not,” Hiro pants, “that much trouble, GoGo. I hope. It’s just, if I don’t make it to this match in time…” 

“Match?” 

“Bot fight,” he says, waving it away with his hand. “Last time… didn’t go so well, and if I don’t reclaim my title in time, they’re going to have to… collect.” 

“King of the bots,” Wasabi says sarcastically. 

“Collect?”

“I mean, it’s not about the money, but I do still have a reputation to upkeep, y’know?” 

“Sure,” Sora says, but he doesn’t sound it. 

Hiro looks up again and finally clocks Riku as he takes his place next to Sora, only half as urgent. This time his look of recognition isn’t as pleasant. 

“Hi,” Riku says, severe. Hiro stands up straight and holds out a hand, one finger up. 

“Hold on. Let me get this over with first,” he says. “You guys should come with, but it looks like you didn’t come to watch the bot fights. We’ll talk when I’m done.” 

Turns out this match in particular is in the back of one of San Fransokyo’s nightclubs. Thudding base and sticky floors serve as a cover up for the arena in the back. Hiro is ushered in, but everyone else is barred from entering by a grave looking pair of hefty bodyguards. Wasabi shakes his head in resignation and the rest of the team decides to wait elsewhere, waving goodbye with promises to link up later, and then it’s only them again. 

“Might as well enjoy it, right?” Sora says with a grin. Riku raises his eyebrows. 

“Blend in with how the other half lives? You’re right. Might as well.” 

More and more people trickle in to fill up the space, and they decide after a moment to mimic the custom of immediately grabbing something to hold as a talisman against awkwardness during idle chatter--a quick stop to the counter, drinks pressed in hands, a toast with not a little irony. They tiptoe through a crowd entranced, laughing at each narrow miss of someone lost in the music. 

“A little different than waltzing, huh,” Sora says, grabbing his hand and leading him through in an exaggerated mockery of a twirl. Riku laughs. “Lots faster. I like it.” 

“It makes sense. It’s upbeat,” Riku says to his turned head as he hunts for a spot that’s not as deafening; Riku’s words are lost to the din. “It reminds me of you.” 

“What’s that?” he turns, a tiny bit of frustration peeking through. They’re still linked by the hands; Sora then spies his target and tugs him along. 

“I think you’d be a great fit,” Sora gestures out at the gyrating crowd when they land in a less crowded space. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he gibes. 

“Like I said. Always something going on.” 

“Maybe. It’s a lot different than home.” 

It’s dark enough that Riku can tell himself he’s imagining the bittersweetness that he sees cross Sora’s face.

“You know,” Sora says, swirling around the ice cubes in the little plastic cup he’s still holding, “You don’t have to come back. Home, that is. I can make your excuses.” 

“And you’d go back to the islands?” he says, surprised.

“That was always the plan, I guess. Or… it used to be. But you don’t have to.” 

Riku pauses for a moment. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Because you’d be happier.” 

He’s startled. _Happier? _Admittedly the concept hadn’t occurred. But was it true? It definitely had been at one point, but he realizes he hasn’t had the time to reevaluate whether island heat and small borders would still feel as oppressive, or if they’d contribute to a welcome stability. After seeing the other places that would be glad to hold him for an eternity or more, he thinks he’d be lucky to be allowed it again. 

But happiness. Was that even an option? He’s suddenly certain he wants to try for it on for himself, now it’s been put into words, now more tangible than even open doors and breaking sunrises. But he also knows he’ll need a little help to get there. 

“And what about you?” he says, looking at him curiously. 

“Well.” He looks down, rubbing his nose with his free hand. “I’d miss you a whole lot. But that’s not what’s important.” 

Riku sighs at that, shakes his head. 

“You know,” he continues wryly, “with the benefit of hindsight, maybe I just needed to get it out of my system.” 

“But you wouldn’t want to stay in one place forever.” 

“Who knows. Maybe it’s more the way I see it than it is about the place itself.” He cocks his head to one side, pursing his lips. “Maybe I know a little better now. But you didn’t answer the question. What about you?” 

They both look at one another clearly, and whatever response Sora will give seems to be trapped in the forming thought he can’t articulate; it’s written clear on his face it’s not an easy one. Riku blinks, then plows on in a rush.

“I think I could make the best of any place, now. I’ve had... some good role models, let alone practice. But I don’t think I’d _want_ to be _anywhere _if it’s not--”

The truth is about to tumble out of him when they’re interrupted by a voice encroaching on their space. There was persistent “_hey_” from somewhere in the crowd that started as negligible background noise and became increasingly pointed, and it seems it was meant to arrive on their doorstep, demanding their attention in a snap.

“You! It’s _you,_” shouts the angry voice, owner partially obscured by the dark but still clearly pointing a finger in Riku’s direction. 

Riku blanches, and puts both hands up as if to create a barrier. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know--” 

“_You’re_ the one who did all that damage when those _creatures_ attacked our city. I lost my _car_ in all that. There’s no insurance for that kinda thing. How ‘bout I take it from out of pocket?” 

As an added bonus to the threatening tone, the earlier pointed finger has transformed into a pair of fists in a fighting stance. 

The only thing Riku can think to say is that holding a grudge that long is probably not healthy, but even if it weren’t the most unwise thing possible he still wouldn’t have been able to say it, frozen to the spot like he was. This poor sap will drive him to cause a scene and lose terribly, then they’ll have to jet out in shame, Riku then with two apologies left unsaid. He’s at a loss. 

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Sora says, breaking the tension, role flipped from his hesitation moments before. He pulls Riku down by the collar of his shirt to propel him into motion. “Sorry. Gotta go.” 

With urgency he shoves him backward, and they duck through the crowd toward the nearby darkened hallway to the sound of quickly diminishing shouts of protest while suppressing laughter. They take a few stumbling steps until they press up in a secluded corner, cramped but securely out of sight. Sora braces him to the wall, peering behind to see if the coast is clear.

“Getting me out of trouble again,” Riku says through a laugh. 

“Well,” he says, sheepish. “You know what they say about habits.” 

He smiles, and gives the alcove a cautious sweep, but doesn’t make to move even as it proves empty but for them.

“You are always saving me from something,” Riku agrees, so aware of the protective little blockade in which he’s held and how close it brings them. He thinks guiltily of how easy it would be to show instead of tell and take a shortcut to confession, to pull him so they’re flush against one another with his own back still against the wall, to guide his hand to let him run fingers through his hair while he tells all his own secrets, to whisper bare emotion from this greatest vantage point. 

The words come out absently when he continues, space in between each. “You’re just… always saving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” he says with a grin. 

“Listen. This… this is why the only place I wanna go is wherever…” 

The thought trails off, the origin of it booted from his brain. He may be losing his mind. In fact, he may lose _everything_ if he _doesn’t _lean over to close this gap, it’s beyond his control, it’s the only possible follow through, or at least the only satisfying one. There’s still music playing, somewhere, an incessant thud, but he’s never needed a stereo system to listen to the song of his own heart; his harmony begs to meet its melody. _Wherever you are,_ his brain supplies belatedly, and with one slow blink, he moves forward. 

Were it not for the deafening sound of an airhorn coming in peals from the DJ booth, he may even have made it. 

It’s electric loud. He starts backward, wincing as he hits his head--startled in turn, Sora practically vibrates, shaking to near collapse. As he tries to get his balance he holds on to Riku’s jacket for dear life, then they both go down to the floor in a heap. 

“_It’s midnight, everyone!” _they hear from the center of the dancefloor as they scramble back up. “_You know what that means!_” 

A delirious cry rises from the crowd, and as they reemerge amongst the ruckus there’s a hail of glow sticks from raised arms. 

Someone near takes pity as they stand there cluelessly surveying the chaos, thankfully none directed in their direction. 

“It’s the anniversary of the merger. The day the city was incorporated. Though if this isn't your speed, the show outside’s a lot prettier, if not any less noisy.” 

As the shouts die down there’s a thudding of a different sort, coming from outside. 

“Fireworks!” Sora shouts in awe, and then he’s disappeared. In spite of the shame he’d felt step firmly into place where confidence had stood moments before, Riku follows. 

Outside he finds him craning towards the sky. 

“_There_,” he says, then turns, grabs him by the wrist, and tugs him along yet again, gripping tight throughout the ascent, climbing higher and higher between skyscrapers and thin air, up past street lamps and billboards and toward the strange balloons dotting the dark. 

A sickening eternity later, they find the highest peak, and the city blinks beneath them, lit up by glittering explosions that echo eerily against the buildings as the sound struggles to escape. 

“Much better,” Sora says with satisfaction, clapping his hands. 

“Not scared of heights anymore?” Riku asks. 

“Terrified. What, you didn’t start, did you?” 

“Since when am I scared?” he says, but it’s only half hearted. He won’t go into depth about each intervening terror, but there aren’t many obstacles that take that place anymore. Heights stayed consistent, and even fears like drowning remained manageable, though any cavernous expanse did tend to give him pause. The fireworks continue to boom. 

“It is really nice,” he says after a moment. “You were right.” 

“Of course I was,” Sora says cheerfully. 

“I’d like to visit again one day, just because. But I guess I answered the question on whether the neighbors would take kindly to my vacation home.” 

Riku smiles, wry, but doesn’t get any sort of response, which is fine by him. He’ll leave everything else that had happened down in the depths, now tiny, and quiet. Better not to rouse the truth of just where his heart has already set its sights. If he leased that land he could stop up any possibility of it developing any further, the weight of all his follies collapsing the foundation until there was no choice but to have him evicted. The possibility of losing him was now so overwhelmingly present that Riku sets his timeline back again--this particular cavern slides neatly into the territory of his darkest fears. A transient lifestyle while he goes to make his repairs can’t be so bad. He’ll hold on to this bid for just a little longer. 

The show’s ended, but the sounds of celebration still drift upwards, cheers and music and camaraderie, and they take it in in comfortable silence. Not long later they’re greeted by a visitor.

“Baymax!” Sora shouts, and Hiro pops up from behind, leaping off to join them and taking his helmet off to hold it in one hand while brandishing a trophy in the other with a proud cry of “_Victory!_” 

“Experiences such as climbing to high places may produce adrenaline and accelerate one’s heart rate,” Baymax chimes in. “Do you need assistance?” 

“I think this is one of those times when people like to get scared on purpose, Baymax,” Hiro fills in. 

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Sora says, then looks askance for a moment at Riku and Hiro. “As a matter of fact, I wanna go for a ride. It’ll be good for my health.” 

“Thrill seeking experiences release endorphins, which create positive emotions. I agree.” 

“Go for it,” Hiro says, tossing Sora the connection to his visor. “But just because there’s another one doesn’t mean you get to run off with my personal healthcare companion.” 

“Busted,” Sora says, already climbing onto Baymax for a joyride. In an instant they disappear, leaving behind nothing but the echo of his whoops of joy. Riku shakes his head with a smile. 

“Nice to meet you,” Hiro says cheerfully, extending a hand to shake. “Hate to say I didn’t get the greatest first impression.” 

“I don’t know everything,” Riku says with a shrug. “I wasn’t there. Well. Not really. And he won’t tell me everything either,” he says, jerking a thumb in the general direction they had left. “Just that I said some pretty terrible things. The other me. I can probably take a guess.” 

“It turned out alright. We’re the Big Hero 6, after all,” Hiro preens. Riku laughs. 

“I can’t make amends to the whole city. But I thought maybe you could at least take a message back to your friends. I can’t undo anything, but I can offer my help.” 

“We’re doing the whole superhero thing. We deal with it.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “You’ve got it in hand, I think. But I can still take some responsibility. The things I’ve done won’t ever really end--what my other self did here is proof positive. So if you ever need a hand other than what a couple of flying robots can do for you, just get in touch with Sora. He’s got a knack for pulling things together.” 

“So in that case I guess you’re never far behind.” 

“Ideally, no.” 

Hiro grins. 

“I’m sure we could use a hand. Thanks. You can be our newest honorary member.” 

“I’m glad.” 

Hiro hops up at the sound of Baymax’s return. Sora pokes his head out as they land, but doesn’t make to disembark. 

“Hey, Baymax. I’ve got something else to take care of,” Hiro says, nudging him along with an elbow. “But I don’t know if these guys can make it back to the city on their own.” 

“Oh no,” says Baymax. 

“You’ll take care of it, right?” 

Baymax makes one deliberate turn toward him, and lands one perfunctory nod in assent. 

“And there’s my ride,” Hiro says, turning as Baymax’s twin rises to join them and gives a mechanical wave. He jumps on, and waves as he soars in the other direction. 

Riku raises an eyebrow, having long since recognized the pattern. 

“C’mon, Riku,” Sora says to grab his attention, gesturing out and then reaching a hand toward him. “You should get some endorphins too. Right, Baymax?” 

“Seeking to better one’s mood can lead to an improvement in overall quality of life,” says Baymax by way of agreement. 

“Then I’d better listen to the healthcare companion,” Riku says, clambering on with the aid of Sora’s steady grip just as they plummet into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see you soon!


End file.
